


Trepidation

by GeekSheek89



Series: The Come Back [2]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Best Friends, Brothers, Deans New Look, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Love, M/M, Return, Unrequited Love, WWE - Freeform, World Wrestling Entertainment - Freeform, ambrollins - Freeform, brother hood, brothers in arms, can never be more than friends, the shield - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 18:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekSheek89/pseuds/GeekSheek89
Summary: The night of Summer Slam 2018. Seth Rollins is gearing to recapture his Intercontinental Championship. But his head can’t focus on the match, he’s more concerned about his partner. Returning from Injury with a new look, new attitude. Something doesn’t sit right with the Architect. This isn’t the same Dean Ambrose that left 9 months ago.





	Trepidation

Dean looked good. Getting injured and being on the shelf for 9 months should never be considered a good thing by any stretch. It’s the worst thing any Superstar could possibly go through. But when you come back stronger, more bad ass, and looking as great as he does tonight, how could anybody not admit it? Damn, he didn’t just look good. Dean Ambrose was freakin’ hot.

Stretching up tall, his arms flexing above his head. Strong defined back muscles, that weren’t there 9 months ago, peeked out underneath the hem line of his tank top as the fabric rose with his movement. His body had under taken a complete transformation. No longer looking slim and slender, but was jacked to the max. Broad strong shoulders, tighter abs, looking every bit the Heavyweight he should be. The short buzz cut army grade hair style saw too those long brunet curls, and adding that thick auburn coloured beard turned his best friend from the boy next door into the man of his dreams.

Seth gulped as he averted his eyes, focusing on the floor rather than his best friends pre-match workout. He had never found it difficult to work in this industry around men like Dean, despite his “relationship preferences.” It was just common curtesy to not stare at your colleagues as they dressed, and Seth very much learnt the hard way about the problems mixing business with pleasure. But when your best friend returns, looking like he’s escaped from the pages of Men’s Fitness magazine; Prison Inmate addition. It made things… complicated.

It was nothing more than a simple school boy crush. Everyone had them. Seth thought that once Dean was married, all these stupid feelings would stop. But it somehow made him want the man more, like he was forbidden fruit. Tempting him to make the worst mistake of his life. But working with him side by side, reforming the Shield, traveling around the world together only made Seth’s feelings stronger. The pair were pretty much inseparable, you could never have one without the other. “Were like Peanut Butter and Jelly.” Dean had called them once. “One is all sweet, that everybody loves. A.K.A, Me. Aaaaand the other is salty as hell.”

“How am I peanut butter?” Seth had retorted with a small smirk. “You’re the nutcase.” Dean just beamed while he ate the supposed sandwich. Those boyish dimples pocketing his cheeks making Seth chuckle (and swoon.)

He missed his silly ‘wacky’ sense of humour more than anything. Something, that Dean since returning, he seemed to have left at home. And Seth was starting to wonder if the surgeons had fixed more than just his bust tricep. Maybe they took away his sense of humour gland or something. The Dean standing in front of him was very much a different man, offering no more sandwich related puns. He seemed more focused, serious, almost dangerous. Definitely living up to his escaped inmate look. Seth didn’t want to admit it but something in his stare unsettled him, he wouldn’t say he was scared of his friend, but he was looking even more unhinged than usual. Seth thought he knew him, could read him like a book. It was why they were always so in sync, but this Dean felt like a stranger to him. The warmth that he could feel between them wasn’t there. Instead it felt cold, clinical, like he was forced to team up with an Ambrose robot clone.

“You're quiet.” Seth's gaze flicked upwards, a pair of cool steely blues considered him, eyebrow scrunched together inquisitively, “you ok?”

Seth offered a tiny smile “‘m fine. Big night”

He huffed a small laugh “not like you to get nervous.”

Seth wasn’t nervous, not about the match at least. He shrugged, leaning back on the folding steal chair. Rubbing the tops of his thighs, trying to dispel the nervous energy that buzzed through him. “Just don’t want them to get the upper hand again.”

“You won’t. You got me.” Clapping a large hand over his shoulder, Dean smiled. But the intent behind his words did not fill Seth with confidence. And the smile currently etched across the man’s face seemed more forced than genuine.

Seth’s heart rate increased slightly, the same thought that had plagued him all week rattled around his head. _“It’s gonna be tonight.”_

He wasn’t stupid. He had heard the rumours. Seen the dirt sheets. It was everywhere, the same story being retold. ‘Dean Ambrose was planning to turn on Seth Rollins.’

_…::::::…_

_Seth sighed. “I’m telling you Roman, its Karma.” He lay across his large hotel bed the night before Summerslam. Phone pressed to his ear, deep in conversation with the only person he felt he could share his worries with._

_“No Way” Roman purred down the line, “Its Ambrose.”_

_“But what if it’s all just been a ploy? What if he was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike back. What if… what if the last year has just been a lie?”  He sighed, the back of his hand resting against his forehead and closing his eyes._

_Roman chuckled. “Are we still talking about the same Deano”_

_“Roman come on. Help me out here” Seth whined, getting annoyed by his friends’ blatant disregard._

_Roman sighed loudly down the line. “Look… No offence to him but he ain’t smart enough to plan something like that. Nor does he have the patience.”_

_“But what-”_

_“Seth man… Just chill.” He rebutted. “There rumours, nothing more. Just be happy he’s back. If he didn’t want to be there for you, he wouldn’t. He’s bust his ass to get back into the ring and what’s the first thing he does? Comes straight to you.”_

_“I know”_

_“So, stop reading the internet and just concentrate on your match with Ziggler.”_

_…::::::…_

But only if Seth could. After everything they had been through, winning tag team gold, reforming the Shield, Dean was just going to go rogue? If he was honest, Seth wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, he half expected it, but that was still very little comfort. The constant feeling of watching over his shoulder waiting for him to pounce. He and Ambrose we're no strangers to this game of cat and mouse.

Since returning, Dean had spent very little time with him. In fact, he had pretty much ignored Seth’s existence for the past few months. There phone conversations were always cut short, he took days to reply to any kind of text message. He even bailed on plans to meet up in New Orleans over Wrestlemania weekend. How could Roman just sit back and say nothing was wrong. But Seth, just like his friend, was stubborn. He didn’t want to give up. He knew first hand how shitty life on the side line can be. And he knew there would be no way in hell that Dean would be handling it well. But when he told Seth “Not to come visit for a while.” It damn near killed him. That night he had sat in his hotel room alone. While scrolling through his wide array of social media accounts, he stumbled across the first rumour. Before he knew it, he had delved deep into the rabbit hole. Conspiracies and storied fabrications of their friendship, all flashing before his eyes in quick succession. That night, for the first time in a long while, he thought Dean might actually be gunning for him.

Shaking off the thought he focused on Roman’s words, _“Concentrate on Ziggler.”_ So that’s what he did. He needed to work out a strategy, not that Seth really had one. The Architect was slipping. Slapping his thighs, he pushed himself off his seat and began to pace, the purposeful striding always helping him concentrate. He ran each and every possible scenario through his head. _‘McIntire could get involved, always got to keep my eye on him. Ziggler could cheat, never rule that out. Dean could side with both of them and all three could take me out._ ’ A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought. As much as Seth didn’t want to think about it, he couldn’t rule out the possibility.

A small chuckle from behind disturbed his train of thought. “So, what’s the plan?” Dean asked. His voice deep, husky. Like smooth melted caramel. Seth turned to see he had taken up residence in Seth’s folded chair, a small playful half smirk twitching at the corner of his lips, those steely blues locked on him. But that wasn’t what Seth focused on, it was what Dean was wearing that made his jaw drop.

“Is that-”?

“Yep.” He beamed proudly. Smoothing a hand down the black tactical vest. His Shield vest. “Think I need a new one though, can’t zip it up anymore.” He demonstrated by leaning back on the chair, trying to pull up the zipper. Sure enough, the fastening wouldn’t budge it past his chest, his newly gained muscle mass making it difficult.  “So, come on Mr Architect. Plan. Go.” He drilled a drum roll with his index fingers across his denim clad thigh.

“I _-err-_ ” Seth rubbed his hand nervously up the back of his neck. “I don’t have one”

“Don’t have one?!” Dean pulled back almost appalled. “Who are you and what have you done with Rollins?”

“Sorry.” He offered by means of an apology with a small shrug, “I dunno what to tell ya. I got nothing.”

“Well… I got one.” Dean said relaxing further back into the chair. Fingers knitting together as they rest atop his head, stretching out his legs crossing them at the ankles. “I’ll take care of Captain Haggis. And you destroy the Steel Panther wannabe.”

Seth chuckled. “Solid plan. How could it possibly backfire?” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on Dean. His lips upturning and giving his friend a genuine lopsided smiled. Dimples pocking his cheeks.

“Or _-y’know-_ you could snap your fingers and they turn into dust or whatever.” Seth’s brow furrowed, confused. That was until he glanced down at his one golden boot. The 6 ‘infinity’ gems across the toe sparkled up at him. Seth smiled, McKenzie had done a great job on his attire once again.

“You know who Thanos is?”  Seth purred. Looking up through his lashes at the man sat opposite, impressed that Dean finally caught up with the times. That playful smile never faltering, in fact it grew wider.

“9 months man.” Dean retorted, his face deadly serious. “I’ve had some time to kill.”

“You mean in-between workouts?”

“Sometimes during.” Dean rose his right arm and flexed, the large rounded muscle growing under the tension. It wasn’t that Dean had never had any muscle mass, to Seth he had always looked perfect. Slim, trim, took care of himself, just enough muscle to see he worked out regularly. But now he was damn near mouth-watering. “Impressive ain’t they.” Seth’s eyes flicked away from his protruding muscle towards Deans dirty smirk. He didn’t mean to ogle, but what made it worse was Dean catching him. “I’m pretty proud of them to be fair.”

 Averting his gaze, turning his back on the man, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Yeah - I mean - you should be. You look... Amazing.” A nervous hand ran tough his hair, releasing the hair tie. Letting the wild curly mess fall to his shoulders.

“Would you bang me?” Seth froze. Turning on the spot, his eyes met that wicked smile again as Dean wiggled his eyebrows. _‘What the fuck?!’_

Seth thought for the briefest moment he was serious. Panic flooded him, unsure what to say. But to his relief Dean stern exterior melted away. Chuckling madly to himself, looking every bit like his old self, and Seth joined in. _‘If only you knew._ ’ “Only if you take me for a drink first.” He offered playfully, as he began his post-match warmup.

Dean sucked air in through his teeth, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin. “You drive a hard bargain. Tell you what, you win tonight. I’ll buy you that drink.”

“And if I don’t win?”

“Then you get no drink,” Dean replied like it was obvious.

Seth beamed shaking his head, nobody could make him smile like Ambrose could. Maybe Roman was right, maybe he had been reading too much into everything. “I’ve missed you,” Seth chuckled.

Deans grin weakened. That forced robotic emotion returning, with an almost carbon copy reply. “I’ve missed you too.”

*

The time had come. As the pair walked in tandem towards gorilla position, the long black fabric canopy creating the makeshift tunnel towards the ring entrance. Seth’s nerves started to get the better of him. He looked to Dean for any signs of comfort, but his face was stoic. Not providing a single word. That thought rearing its ugly head in the back of Seth’s mind. _“Tonight, it’s gonna be tonight.”_ His eyes trained on Dean a moment longer as they finally reached the small set of steps. Leading up towards the main crux of the arena. He watched him flex his surgically repaired arm carefully, manipulating it in a variety of different ways, as if testing it to see if it would break. “How’s it feel?” he asked

Dean nodded, eyes still focused on his arm. “Good. Really good.” A young man with a headset and clipboard popped into their line of sight, instructing Dean to take his entrance first. As quickly as he disappeared Dean’s music blared out of every speaker inside the building, lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. “See you out there.” Dean yelled over the noise raising his fist. The solidarity gesture of the Shield. Staring at that black ink band around his finger, like a constant reminder of what Seth could never have, he closed his fist and bumped knuckles. As quick as a flash, Dean charged up the steps and through the curtain. Swallowed by the flutter of black fabric and the deafening thunder of the audience.

…::::::…

Seth blinked back the blood as it stung his eyes, the back of his hand coming up to wipe away tears, (or more blood.) He sat on a tall bench in the trainer’s room as one of the medics checked him over. He collided with the LED ring post towards the end of his match, busting open his eyebrow. It hurt like hell. Still feeling in a slight daze he watched the flurry of activity around him. Superstars coming in for last minute physio, getting muscle tape applied or just to have a general chat with the medic team. Seth winced as the cold cleaning solution was applied, the antiseptic water trickling down his cheek and onto his chest. “It’s nothing to serious,” the doctor murmured, poking at a particularly tender spot making Seth hiss at the discomfort. “No stitches needed, but I will keep it covered. Just in case”

“Thanks Doc.” The words never escaped Seth’s mouth. Dean, who had been by his side the entire time crossed his arms, giving the doctor a small nod of thanks as he moved away to retrieve said covering.

Seth groaned, his arm reaching up to press a tender finger to the gash. “That’s gonna be sore tomorrow.”

“It looks sore now. Here…” Shifting from his side to stand in front of him, his eyes in perfect alignment with Dean's chest. “Said I’d get you a drink if you won.” He extended the offering of an unopened bottle of water.

Seth chuckled. “You said you’d _buy_ me a drink… these are free.” But he accepted the present nonetheless. Cracking open the seal and knocking back a large mouthful. The refreshing liquid welcoming.

“ _-eh-_ I’m a cheap date,” he shrugged. “You sure you’re ok? You hit your head pretty hard.”

“'m fine, really. You know you don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Seth’s chest filled with joy at Deans comment. The Doctor returned with a large protective covering.  With a final wipe of a stinging, tingling antiseptic cloth, the covering was applied. But Seth didn’t feel like moving anywhere, his post-match adrenaline had come crashing down around him. And now, felt exhausted. His limbs felt 10 times heavier than normal, and the golden belt that lay across his lap felt like it was a weight, keeping him tethered to the bench.  With a deep hearty breath, he willed himself of the bench, sliding forward until his feet hit solid ground. Pushing himself to his feet swaying slightly as he regained his balance, but Dean was there to catch him. A warm hand splayed across his chest. The light chuckle in his ear. “Easy their cowboy. You sure you-”

“I’m fine.” Seth reiterated, anticipating Deans next question. “Jus’ tired.” Flipping his golden belt over his shoulder he marched forwards determined to prove there was nothing wrong. But his head pounded, like someone was beating a bass drum repeatedly inside his skull. Everything around him felt unreal, like he was detached from his body. Floating from place to place. He knew it was just the effect of the pain relief the Docs had given him mixing badly on an empty stomach, but it still unsettled him. An arm snaked around his waist, and a body pressed close to his side.

“Come on,” Dean murmured in his ear “I gotchya.”

Seth wanted to complain. _‘I’m fine! Leave me alone.’_ But the words never escaped his mouth. In fact, he didn’t even fight when Dean gently guided him down the hall, didn’t even argue when he took the heavy gold belt from his shoulder to carry it for him. He couldn’t help but lean in closer to him secretly grateful he was there. Roman was right, Dean could never hurt him. He pushed the door to the locker room open with his free hand, guiding Seth towards his designated spot. The gathering of male talent all congratulating him on his victory. Unhooking the chair from its shelf Dean flipped it open and ordered Seth to sit. Which, begrudgingly, he obeyed. Leaning forward elbows digging into the tops of his thighs, he buried his face into his hands. His pounding head made worse by the noise in the room. One of Seth’s protein bars, the ones he kept as snacks for on the road, suddenly appeared under his nose. “Eat.” Dean ordered.

“I’m not-”

“Eat.” he insisted. “Or I’ll make you.” Seth refused to meet his gaze. Swiping the bar from his grasp he unwrapped it, taking a large bite. Salted Caramel, at least he picked out the good flavour.  After chewing the sticky mouthful a few times he swallowed, lifting his head up to observed the room. The handful of guys in the room all carried on about their business. Running over match concepts, watching SummerSlam its self, or was gathered round the small monitor hooked up to a game console as a bunch of the guys played UFC. Dean however was in none of these scenarios. He sat 2 lockers away, a vigilant eye kept on his partner while changing into some more casual clothes. Taking another bite of his protein bar his stomach churned uneasily. But it wasn’t the food making him feel uncomfortable.  How could he have even considered Dean betraying him? The man was as loyal as they came. He couldn’t even look at him without that guilt clouding over him. He needed to tell Dean the truth. “For a guy who’s just became Intercontinental Champion, you don’t look to happy about it.”  Seth huffed a small smile, but he knew he wasn’t going to get passed this without being honest to his best friend.

“Dean I-” Seth began but froze. His eyes roaming his best friends’ shirtless body. Cut, taught muscles sculpted his light clean-shaven frame. The grey Tap Out t-shirt clutched tightly in his large masculine hands. Hands that Seth fantasized about more often than he probably should. Damn, he was mouth-watering. His gaze continued upwards meeting confused steely blues, brow scrunched with a questioning eyebrow raised. Feeling that burn in his cheeks yet again his eyes trained to the floor, staring at his partner's boots. “-I have a confession to make.” His voice sounding small.

Dean huffed a dry laugh, pulling the t-shirt over his head. A playful smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “How much did the Docs give you? You sure you don’t have a concussion?”

“I’m being serious.” When Dean didn’t say or do anything he continued. “While you were gone, there was a lot of talk about what you would do when you came back. Where your head would be.”

“I know. I saw,” Seth’s eyes flicked up to him. Dean concentration was firmly on his backpack. It was nice to know Dean had seen them too. However, he found little comfort in that knowledge.  Why had he not said anything? “Where do people get this shit from man?” he huffed another dry laugh

“I believed them.” Dean stopped chuckling, hands hovering over his backpack. “I didn’t think I’d have you on my side tonight-”

“You thought I was jus’ gonna turn on you?” He interrupted. A cold shiver ran down Seth’s spine. A chill that matched that of Deans tone and equally frosty stare. “Come on Seth…  I thought you were better than that.” His attention snapped back to his belongings, ferociously cramming more of his stuff inside the bag, paying no attention to the man beside him.

“I didn’t believe them, at first… but they were everywhere.” Seth tried to counter. “Even when I came down to visit you… Something just didn’t feel right.” Seth trailed off, his chest heavy with guilt “Then you told me not to come see you anymore and I, I don’t know-”

“So, you assumed that I was planning a double cross?” A heavy weight still pushed down on Seth’s shoulders, slouching him forward. He had hoped that getting this off his chest would make him feel lighter, freer. But instead, it gnawed at his insides. Saying it out loud really did sound ridiculous.

“…I’m sorry.” His said finally, hating himself for how weak the apology sounded. He stared down at his own shoes. That one golden boot scuffing the scratchy carpet tiles. The silence between them was the most painful. The unabashed mumble of the locker room was the only source of distraction.  One of the guys gathered around the UFC game leaped to his feet, punching the air and yelling with joy as he won a round, momentarily diverting Seth from the Icey exchange.

“A year.” Dean huffed so quietly it took Seth by surprise. “One stinking year and you're already trying to split us up.”

“What?!” Seth’s head snapped up. Dean scowled into his backpack, his jaw muscles tensing as he ground his teeth. His grip on the woven fabric growing tighter as his knuckles turned white. “No. That's not-” Seth tried to fight back but Dean cut him off.

“I don’t even know what to say to you.” Stuffing his black tactical vest aggressively into the bag. Seth could handle his screaming, shouting. Could manage when the ‘lunatic’ came out to play. But this eerie peacefulness persona to Dean’s character was unsettling, like the calm before a storm.

“Dean I-”

“Save it.” He spat making Seth flinch, startling him slightly. Aggressive blues shone his way, scowling so hard that his face might splinter. With a flair of his nostrils, he returned to scowl at his things. His jaw ticked, sharpening his features as he rammed the last of his wrestling gear into his bag. The pair remained silent. Seth feeling like the world’s worst best friend, and maybe he was. “News flash Rollins.” He gritted out through bare teeth, after what seemed like a deathly long silence. “I would never do that to you.” Seth’s heart constricted inside his chest as for the briefest micro second a new emotion flicked across his friends’ scornful features. Pure heart break. Like he was reliving his most painful memory. The underlining tone of his statement ringing to close to home for Seth’s comfort. _“I would never do that to you… I’m not you.”_ With one swift movement, back pack slung over his shoulder he turned and headed towards the door.

“Where you goin’?” The show had only just started he couldn’t be leaving already. But his friend never answered, ripping the door open he stormed into the hallway. Seth was off the chair giving chase, one firm grip still attached to his belt the other on the door handle. Caught before the entryway slammed shut. The concourse was packed, superstars, co-workers, friends all sauntering about as they worked. The usual chatter and low buzz rumbled around him. Seth scanned his vicinity managing to spot the back of his head as he barrelled down the hall. He took off running, his pounding head matching the tempo and rhythm of his sprint, catching up to him in no time. A hand resting atop his large shoulder he halted, Seth swinging round to stand in front of him, that hand never breaking contact. His jaw flexed yet again as he scowled over Seth's shoulder, unable to meet his eye.

“I get it your mad. But what was I supposed to believe?”

“ME!” Dean yelled. His burning glare staring deeply into Seth “Your supposed to believe in me.”

“I’ve had nothing but radio silence from you for months!” Seth bounced back just as loudly. Aware that people were staring all around, could see the heard of referees advancing towards them slowly, toning down his voice trying to limit the attention they brought. “When I called, visited, you wanted nothing to do with me. And now your back, it’s like…” Seth raked his gaze down his partner, slowly. “I don’t even know you, man. You look different, you act differently. So, tell me? Am I wrong for believing?”

An unamused, menacing smile crawled across his partners face. With a slow shake of his head, his gaze trailed off down the hallway over Seth’s shoulder again. “I worked my ass off to get back here, to be by your side. I’m not even back 5 minutes and you're worried that I’m out here trying to take your precious fucking title. Same old Rollins”

“This isn’t about the title! You want it? Here!” A short expel of breath escaped from Dean as Seth shoved the belt into his chest. Hard. “Take it. I would give up this belt and all other opportunities if it meant I could keep you by my side.”

“Well, then you’re a fucking idiot.” Dean retorted, shoving the belt back just as aggressively “Nobody’s worth that.”

“You are.” How could Dean not see that?! Seth’s insides tightened as he looked into that hard stare. “To me, you are worth all of it. Dean, this past year has been the greatest of my life because I got you back. The Shield are back, and I’m not letting that go again.” Dean’s concentration drifted again, but his angry facade slowly faded too. A large hand came up to scratch at his bearded chin. “I was an idiot for believing the rumors. I was scared. I thought… I thought I was goin’ to lose you.”

Dean mumbled, so quietly Seth almost didn’t catch it. Wide haunted trepid eyes considered him, as he raked a rough hand through his new shortened hair. “You nearly did.”

Seth blinked a few times. That tightening knot in his stomach constricting more. He searched his eyes hoping to see some kind of answer. “W-what do you mean?” Hooking the crook of his elbow he pulled Seth towards the nearest wall. Out of earshot of others and away from the busy center of the concourse. There body’s inches away. Dean ran a tongue over his bottom lip as he surveyed the crowd around him.

His head rocking side to side, as if mulling over the right words to say. “After my second round of surgery, there was… complications.” His tone low, not wanting their conversation to be overheard. “I caught a staph infection.”

“Shit.” Seth breathed studying his features, hanging on to his every word. “H-how bad?”

“Bad.” Dean reiterated with a nod. “I wasn’t allowed to see anybody. I couldn’t go anywhere. Just stuck inside a hospital room for weeks.” He admitted privately. Cautious eyes still scanning their surroundings before adding. “It was real rough for a while and I just cut myself off from everyone. I didn’t want them to know how bad it was.” Seth licked his lips, focus still trained on his friend. A single question rattled around his head as he focused intently on him. _“How bad was it?”_ As in sync as they always have been, Dean answered. Without even missing a beat, terrified baby blues latched onto his as the sentence hung in the air. “I nearly died, Seth.”

His entire insides cascaded to the floor. Numb. That’s the only thing he could describe himself as, while his brain tried to comprehend those words. _“I nearly died.”_ His title clattered to the floor as he threw arms around Dean’s shoulders in a tight embrace.  Holding onto him for dear life. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he croaked. Forcing down the lump that balled in his throat.

“I-I didn’t want you to worry.”

“WORRY!” Seth pulled back sharply laying a punch into his shoulder. Verging on a sob he managed to compose himself just enough. “You nearly died ass hole!”

“But I didn’t,” Dean replied matter-of-factly, soothing his sore shoulder. “I kicked Death’s ass just to come back and see you.” He huffed a small laugh. That lopsided Ambrose smile pushing through the fear, trying to lighten the mood. Typical Ambrose, always trying to make light of shitty situations. Seth felt another wave of emotion crawling up him as he flung himself back at his partner. Head buried deep in the crook of Deans neck. This time Dean returned the gesture. Even with his arms pinned to his sides he still managed to snake them around Seth’s waist, gripping him tightly. “I’m sorry.” His gruff apology came. A quick kiss planted the top of Seth sweat-drenched locks. “I love you.”

Seth’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t the first time he had uttered those three words to him. However, each time he did the sting hurt a little less. Their two ideals of the word fell on very different planes of existence. While one saw them as a family, a brother hood. The other imagined sharing an intimate life together. Seth knew what this was, that it could never be more than Dean’s reality. But the idea of losing the man he cared so deeply for haunted Seth more than words could ever express. And while his reply to Dean was always the same, this time Seth made sure he knew that to him this was more. “I love you too Dean.” He hushed. “I love you too.”


End file.
